The Stanes
I cuddled into Sam, her shapely curves cushioning me. The travel rug was our only modesty as we were bumped about on the backseat, the smooth leather providing no traction under our bare-asses. We had been travelling down twisting single-track roads for hours. We passed the last house around 10 miles back (if you could call it a house; a ramshackle croft turned holiday cottage, waiting out the lonely months till the life spark returned). We had seen no signs of life other than a few small herds...